Wednesday, November 02, 2011

Welcome Rose Anderson

I'm pleased to have Rose Anderson with us this week, a truly interesting and talented woman who I'm really glad to meet. Welcome Rose!

1.  Most people envision an author’s life as being really glamorous. What’s your take on this? Can you tell us something unglamorous you did within the last week or so?
Before I begin Jude, I’d like to thank you for hosting this interview today. I very much appreciate your time and I’ve enjoyed your interesting and fun Q&A. 

Something unglamorous eh? Just this morning, my husband asked me what my readers would think about me lounging around all day in baggy old clothes. LOL I hardly “lounge around all day” but I do dress in comfortable clothing when I write. Why wouldn’t I? I think my readers would see the sense in it. 

I’m a natural redhead with gray eyes. With this genetic distinction comes fair skin that sunburns easily. Growing up in the days before sunscreen, as a little girl I’d get burn upon burn just playing outside. Add to that a rather stupid attempt to gain the highly touted Coppertone tan in my teens, and it’s a recipe for skin damage. Several days ago I went to the dermatologist because I found several suspicious spots over the summer. Sure enough, these pre-cancerous monsters had to be frozen with cryotherapy. I’m glad I went because this stuff can turn deadly. Unfortunately the timing is terrible. I have two social functions this weekend and I look like I’ve been brawling. Yes, it’s been a very unglamorous few days. 

2. Plotter or pantzer?
I definitely write by the seat of my comfortable baggy pants. <grin> Even when I try to plot the story, it takes on a life of its own and I resume pantzing! An interesting idea will pop into my head and before I know it I have a character or two and they’ll start talking to themselves and each other. When they walk forward in their world, for one reason or another conflict comes in from the sides and they must react to it. The strange thing here is, I really don’t know how the story will end until they end it. They take over my brain until they’re done with me. I’ve heard other authors refer to this state of mind as a form of possession. 

3. If you could invite any famous person, dead or alive, for dinner, who would it be and what would you eat?
Oh this is a tricky one. As I’m terribly shy, I’d rather have a dinner party, then I can pop in and out of the conversation but not have it depend upon me to keep it going.  At the table I’d sit Thomas Jefferson, Leonardo Da Vinci, Lao Tzu, King Solomon, Jane Austen, Astronaut Jim Lovell, Oprah Winfrey, RenĂ© Descartes, Thoth, John and Abigail Adams, and President and Mrs. Barack Obama. Can you imagine how fabulous that conversation would be? I think I’d have a Mongolian Hot Pot -- hot stock and small bits of food to cook in it -- or perhaps a fondue. Slow meals are great for keeping a dinner conversation going.  

4. What do you hope to achieve in life and when will you know that you have been a success?
I’d like more than anything to become successful enough to buy a nice piece of land for my husband to retire on. That’s been my goal from the start. Second to that, I’d like to set up a foundation that gives grant monies to people and organizations that do good things for the environment, animals, and mankind. Think of it like picking up Ben and Jerry’s torch and running with it.

5. Are you in love? Have you ever been?
Yes I am. I’ve loved this man since I was nineteen years old. My soul mate and I have been together nearly 35 years and he’s my best friend too. You can’t get better than that.

6.  What would you like to share with new writers? Any suggestions or advice?
I’d say they need to keep in mind that not all of their books will be a good fit with every reader out there and not to take it too hard when the inevitable poor or snarky review pops up. Books are no less works of art than masterpieces in oil or stone. And beauty is in the eye of the beholder. When I began this amazing journey back in March of this year, I learned I had a narrow window of opportunity to find reviews for my book. I did a little digging around the internet to learn all I could about reviews. I read a few dozen and found many thought-filled assessments by obvious booklovers. Some lower-rated reviews offered constructive criticism and I realized they’d be useful to the author, if the authors took them to heart. They were things like: The story dragged in chapter two, or The point of view shifts were confusing at times.

Then to my dismay I read some very nasty reviews. The one that stood out went something like this: This author should have their fingers broken so they can’t write another piece of sh*t.  All I could say was really? Was it that bad to say that terrible thing? Especially in the Romance Genre! How could another person’s work of art evoke that kind of emotional response? It’s not like seeing something that turns your stomach with its shock value. It’s not like watching a tank ready to crush a student in Tiananmen Square, witnessing that hapless truck driver in Los Angeles getting his head koshed in with a brick, or viewing a monk setting himself on fire in protest. It’s a romance novel that on some level just didn’t do it for the reader. That’s all. And really, even doing it for the reader is a personal thing. One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.

So new writers, please remember that reviews are simply opinions. How many people do you know with opinions different than your own? Revel in the good ones. They feel great! Consider the bad ones. If you’re lucky, they’ll come with constructive criticism and that’s not a bad thing because sometimes authors are just too close to the story to see gaffs and gaps. Once they’re out in the open and you know what they look like, these glitches can be avoided. And above all, ignore the nasty reviews. If they have nothing of value to impart and are simply mean-spirited, consider them to be the power plays they are, and then move on. 

7. If you had one wish, would you give away? Why or why not and to whom would you give it?
If I had one wish, I wouldn’t take it for myself. As a helpless bystander, I watched two beloved sisters die to catastrophic diseases. I would use my one wish to remove suffering in all its forms from all of earth’s creatures – hunger, abuse, disease, etc… etc …etc.  Of course the planet would spring back to life. In lieu of that, I’d wish for a genie in a lamp that gave me unlimited wishes and fix things that way.  :) 

8. If you found that, for one reason or another, you couldn’t write anymore, what would you like to do instead?
I love making things but after 38 years of rheumatoid arthritis, my hands don’t always cooperate with my creative spark.  I really enjoy making things with my computer. I’d go into graphics. 

9.  What are you working on now? Can you tell us a little about it?
I have several books simmering away right now – a five-book non-erotic romance series I’ve been working on for four full years now, a magical story set in the Isle of Skye, and I’m getting ready to submit one to my publisher that tracks an urban legend in my area. There’ll be two books to that story. I’m half way through book two now. I’ve been busy!

10. What do you enjoy doing with your spare time, your non-writing time? 
My husband and I go to flea markets on most Sundays. He’s searching for old correspondence. I collect little trinkets like Cracker Jack toys, political buttons, and pickle pins. Sometimes we get lucky. I like to sew and recently discovered repurposing. In other words, I’d buy a vintage table cloth or wool sweater and use them as fabric to make napkins or mittens etc. Were I to be summed up, I guess you’d call me a dabbler. I have many interests and am just as happy doing one as another.

On to a short teaser from Rose's book, Dreamscape!
by Rose Anderson
publisher: Siren Publishing
ISBN: 978-1619260221
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance

Unable to deny his own translucence, Dr. Jason Bowen determines his lack of physical substance could only mean one thing -- he's a ghost. Murdered more than a century before, Jason haunts his house and ponders the treachery that took his life. When Lanie O'Keefe arrives with plans to renovate her newly purchased Victorian mansion, Jason discovers, ghost or not, he's still very much a man.

Despite its derelict condition and haunted reputation, Lanie couldn't be happier with her new home, but then she has no idea a spirit follows her every move throughout the day and shares her captivating warmth at night. Jason soon discovers he can travel through Lanie's dreams and finds himself reliving the days before his murder with Lanie by his side. It took one hundred and twenty years for love to find them, but there's that insurmountable little matter of Jason being dead.

Seeing the ghost of Jason Bowen for the first time, Lanie falls to the floor in a faint. Coming to, she doesn't believe what she's seen and writes it off as simply a fearful reaction to a severe thunderstorm. Laughing away her overactive imagination, Lanie playfully calls the ghost to her bath. She never expected a ghost to come to this innocent invitation.
Summer birds were now singing their twilight song, and Lanie woke with no clear notion on how she came to be on the floor. The last thing she remembered was the deafening roar of the hail on the cupola’s copper roof. No, the last thing she remembered was coming face to face with a ghost. So Jason Bowen really did haunt this house. Catching glimpses of some movement out of the corner of her eye all these weeks wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
She’d heard the stories as a girl, those playground conversations of how the ghost of Jason Bowen killed kids whenever he appeared. Early on she’d wondered how crazy stories like that ever got started and had decided it most likely came from parents wanting their children to stay away from abandoned houses where they could get hurt. The recently identified Jason Bowen was the man in her dreams, the same man she’d had a crush on since her late teens. Lanie sighed wistfully. There was no future in loving a ghost, none at all. 

Deciding a long, soaking bath was the perfect solution for the helplessly lovelorn, she opened the windows to the storm-clean air and headed downstairs to do just that. The instant Lanie turned on the bathroom light the bulb blew with a pop, the surprise of it eliciting her squeak. After turning the water full-blast to hot, she went rummaging through the built-in bureau drawer for matches with which to light the scented candle on her nightstand. Setting it on the top of the toilet tank, she undressed then turned to the mirror to pin up her hair. 

The upper portion of a man projected upon the steam as if it were a movie screen. Her mirrored reflection clearly showed him standing just behind her, his form outlined in blue light. She whirled around but found herself alone. She eyed the mirror again. There really had been a man’s face visible for an instant before it evaporated. And although the image was brief, it looked like Jason Bowen.

Lanie shook her head. Now that she knew exactly what Jason Bowen looked like from his portrait and photograph, was she going to believe she was seeing him around every corner? “Yeah, wishful thinking.” She had to admit Dr. Jason Bowen had a presence, at least to her sleeping mind he did. If her imagination was a fraction of what he was truly like when he lived, then Mmm mmm mmm. Steeped in her flight of fancy, she spoke as if the figment of her imagination stood there in the flesh. “I was hoping you’d keep me company while I took a bath…” Taking a fanciful stab she added, “Jason.”

Standing nearby, Jason blinked in disbelief. He focused his mind and appeared an instant later in the kitchen. No, this wasn’t his time, the modern appliances proved that. He appeared a split second later back in the doorway to her bath and found her in the tub with her eyes closed. Deliberating if he should speak or not, he reasoned she wouldn’t have used his name if she didn’t know he was there—an invitation to her bath no less. The male part of him replied, “Yes, I’m here, Lanie.” 

Seeing the instant change in her expression, Jason’s logical mind half expected her to shriek and run bare-assed out of the house.

“Oh, my god.” She said the words under her breath and sunk deeper into the water.

He sat on the commode, not quite knowing what the hell had just happened. In fact, he found her reaction to him perplexing. For all appearances she acted like she knew he was there. She called him by name yet went rigid when he replied. Fear perhaps? He hoped not. “You were jesting?” 

“Where are you?”

Jason materialized sitting on the closed toilet seat. The stunned expression on Lanie’s face making him feel apprehensive, he begged her silently, Please don’t run away.

Want to know a bit more about Rose? Me too!

A classic Wordie, Rose Anderson writes across genres -- children’s early readers and youth literature, romance and erotic romance, paranormal, metaphysical, historical, and mystery. She also freelances for magazines. Painfully shy, Rose is always on the lookout for ways to challenge herself because she loves to learn. Aside from collecting just about everything under the sun, she has an impressive word library consisting of dictionaries and encyclopedias of all sorts (ask her anything, she loves research) Rose has a husband, two grown kids, two dogs (one empty nest child and one granddog), three cockatiels, and a thirty-year-old Angolan monitor lizard. Nearly all of them share her small home in the middle of nowhere in the wilds of northern Illinois. 

Her most recent novel is Dreamscape published through Siren-BookStrand Publishing. Written in homage to Agatha Christie, Dreamscape is a reader's Easter egg hunt in the truest sense. Peppered throughout, are clues suggesting a story behind the scenes. 

Last, but not least, here are a few places you'll be able to find Rose online:

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